


Kuroken Sickfic Collection

by casper_the_friendly



Series: Haikyuu!! Sickfic Compilation [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asexual Kozume Kenma, Emetophilia, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nekoma, Sick Character, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casper_the_friendly/pseuds/casper_the_friendly
Summary: The title pretty much says it all... I've written a bunch of sickfics (most of which involve vomit) on my tumblr, and I thought I'd put them up on here for anyone who's interested.  It may take me a while to upload everything I have so far, so if you'd like, feel free to check out my tumblr account@casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't want to read about vomit, do not read!

The moment Kenma opened the door, hunched over slightly with both hands gripping the straps of his backpack like normal, Kuroo knew without any doubt that something was wrong. He didn’t know how; at that point there were hardly any signs that he was actively conscious of, but he seemed to have a sort of sixth sense about certain things. Those things being, mainly, Kenma, and sometimes volleyball.

“Hey, Kitten,” he said, leaning against the doorway, eyebrows raised and one hand on his hip. “You sick?”

Kenma, who had been ready to sneak past Kuroo and leave, stopped, and briefly met Kuroo’s eyes before shifting downward again. He shrugged.

“How about skipping school today, hm? Do you have any tests or anything today? Are your parents home?”

Kenma shook his head, answering both questions at once, and kicked at the ground with the toe of his shoe.

“Wonderful,” Kuroo smiled. “Take your shoes off and let me in then, yeah?”

Now Kenma looked up and held Kuroo’s gaze. “You can’t.”

“Why not?” Kuroo asked in a teasing tone. “If you get to skip, I’m sure as hell going to, too.”

“What about practice?”

Kuroo huffed. “I could use a day’s break from volleyball, and the team can manage without me just fine. Kai and Yaku can take care of things.”

Kenma gave him an expressionless stare and started taking his shoes off, but still made no move to let Kuroo in.

“You never want a break from volleyball. You love volleyball.”

Kuroo scrunched his nose. “You’re right. But I love you more. Best case scenario is playing volleyball with you, but between the two, I choose being with you over playing ball every time.”

Kenma sighs, but steps aside, finally. Kuroo wonders if Kenma knows that he said every one of those words with complete honestly. He’s said them to Kenma before, those three important ones: I love you. But they always come out sounding far too casual to feel like a real confession of love. In fact, he’s said them so many times by now that they hardly feel as special as they should.

“Kuro?”

Kuroo realized then that he was still standing in the doorway, and straightened, cupping a hand around the back of his neck sheepishly. “Right,” he laughed, stepping inside. “Sorry, you left me standing there for so long I guess I got too comfortable.”

Kenma rolled his eyes and curled up on the couch with his handheld game way too close to his face.

“Hey, Kenma, before you get too into your game, you gotta tell me what’s going on with you exactly. Do you feel physically sick, or…?” He left the question open ended, knowing that Kenma was just as prone to psychological ailments as physical ones.

Kenma shrugged.

“Come on, Kitten, talk to me. Otherwise I can’t help,” Kuroo walked over to the couch and looked over the back of it at his friend. “What hurts?”

He held his breath for a moment. If Kenma were to say “nothing,” he’d know that it’s a psychological struggle. He’d know that by nothing Kenma means everything. And he knew that at that point there would be nothing he could really do to help besides just be there. That’s the kind of sickness that is hardest on both of them, so if his fingers crossed in a wish for anything but that, who could blame him?

So when Kenma murmured, “stomach,” Kuroo was temporarily relieved. Then Kenma hiccuped, curling further in on himself, and he wondered if such relief was unwarranted after all.

“You think you’re going to… you know?”

After a beat, Kenma nodded ever so slightly.

“Shit,” Kuroo muttered. “Let’s get you to the toilet, then.”

Kenma stood on shaky legs, but as he lifted a hand to his mouth after taking a few unsteady steps, Kuroo cursed again and simply swept the smaller boy up in his arms. He speed walked to the bathroom and set Kenma down in front of the toilet just in time for him to retch violently over it, spit dripping from his lips. Kenma whimpered in pain, and Kuroo placed a hand on his back.

“You’re okay, Kitten, just breathe.”

An uncannily loud belch rolled out of the small boy and his entire body shuddered before a powerful stream of vomit flowed from his mouth and nose, splashing audibly into the water. Kuroo winced, but rubbed steady circles into Kenma’s back, hoping that would help ground him somewhat.

When he was able, Kenma gasped and coughed, but was soon cut off by a gag that had him spewing another long stream of puke. This was immediately followed by another heave. Kenma sputtered for a moment on a thinner stream of sick, but promptly burped out another thick one.

“Fuck,” Kuroo whispered, finding it hard to believe that such a small person had contained so much in his stomach. He brushed Kenma’s hair back and tried to soothe him as the sick boy hiccuped miserably.

“Do you feel any better?” Kuroo asked when Kenma seemed to have calmed his stomach. Kenma shook his head, his whole body trembling like a leaf.

“Feel so sick,” he moaned, hands wrapping around his stomach.

Kuroo hummed in agreement. “Do you think you’re going to be sick again?”

Kenma nodded.

“Okay, Kitten,” Kuroo said quietly. His hands moved from where they’d been brushing through Kenma’s hair to cover his small hands, which were desperately kneading his stomach. They stilled, and Kuroo pried them away, immediately using his own hands instead to massage Kenma’s belly.

“Is this alright?”

Kenma nodded, relaxing back into Kuroo’s arms.

“You tired?”

Kenma nodded again.

“Sleep, then,” Kuroo whispered, and as Kenma’s breathing slowed and evened out, he dared to hope that maybe his friend had fallen into dreamland. However, as soon as he had the thought, Kenma lurched forward. A strangled noise was the only other warning he had before Kenma was throwing up again, too weak at this point to even make it to the toilet. Instead he’d cupped his hands around his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent making a mess. Now Kenma’s hands and shirt were covered in the hot, foul-smelling liquid. The sight and feel of it seemed to get to him, causing him to immediately retch three more times before a small amount of stomach bile dribbled down his chin.

For a moment, Kuroo didn’t know what to do. Then Kenma let out a distressed noise that was so intensely heart-wrenching that it made Kuroo want to cry. Instead of crying he sprang into action, carefully lifting Kenma’s soiled shirt off of him without making more of a mess and throwing it in the trash, using toilet paper to wipe off Kenma’s hands and face, wiping up the relatively small quantity of vomit that had got on the floor, all the while murmuring reassurances to Kenma. “It’s okay.” “It’s alright.” “Don’t worry, Kitten, you’ll be fine.” “Just breathe, and rest, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

“Kuro,” Kenma rasped eventually, just as Kuroo was starting to finish up.

“Hm?” Kuroo sat back down next to the sick boy and coaxed his head into his lap. His hands sifted through Kenma’s hair, falling into a slow rhythm.

“Did you mean it?” Kenma closed his eyes as he asked the question.

“Did I mean what?” Kuroo’s hands slowed gradually to a stop.

“When you said that you love me more than volleyball.”

For a long while, Kuroo was silent. Kenma was more or less still, but his chest rose and fell at an increasing rate the longer the silence dragged on. Then:

“Yeah,” Kuroo whispered. “I love you more than the world.”

Both of Kenma’s eyes went wide.

“You mean…”

“I’ve been in love with you for years, Kitten. I’m sorry,” he rambled. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you, it’s ju-“

“Me too,” Kenma muttered, cheeks going a faint shade of pink.

“What?” Kuroo could hardly believe his ears.

“I love you, too, Kuro,” Kenma confirmed, eyes drifting shut.

“Kenma, you- really? But I thought-“ Kenma let out a small snore and Kuroo cut himself off, looking down at his sleeping friend in disbelief. He shook his head.

“How can you possibly sleep after a confession like that?” He sighed, and leaned his head back against the wall.

Kenma made a small noise and Kuroo’s ears perked up.

“-anks, ‘uro,” Kenma muttered. Kuroo couldn’t tell if he was sleep talking or half-awake, but it didn’t really matter.

“Of course, Kitten,” Kuroo said. “Any time.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don't want to read about vomit, do not read!

“Your hands are shaking.”

Kenma kept his eyes trained on the game he’d just lost. Kuroo was right. The handheld was vibrating, making it hard to play. His brow furrowed in mild annoyance.

“Have you eaten today?”

Kenma shrugged, knowing what was coming. Kuroo gave him a flat look.

“Kenma, you need to eat.”

Kenma’s eyes flicked up momentarily just to see Kuroo’s disappointed and overly concerned look. Then he refocused on the handheld system and started a new game, hoping it would distract him from the smell of food that filled the cafeteria and the churning of his stomach. He didn’t feel like eating. Unfortunately, Kuroo delicately plucked the device from his hands and gave him a sour look.

“That’s what lunch time is for. Eating.” Kuroo tucked Kenma’s video game away, and met Kenma’s annoyed stare evenly. Kenma was the one to break eye contact first, but it hadn’t really been a fair competition in the first place, since Kenma had something of an opposition to eye contact in the first place, not to mention that the pain in his stomach was making it hard for him to focus on anything.

Kenma put his head on the table. He really just wanted to sleep this off. Unfortunately, Kuroo had other ideas.

“Eat,” Kuroo said, waving a sushi roll in front of Kenma’s face. “You’ll feel better once you do.”

Kenma blinked at the sushi. He really didn’t feel like eating. That in itself was not unusual. In fact, this entire ordeal, with Kenma not wanting to eat and Kuroo making sure he did was something of a habit for the two of them. It wasn’t that Kenma wanted to lose weight or anything like that; sometimes eating just felt like more effor than it was worth. Today, though, with his stomach as unsteady as it was, he was very convinced that it was not only too much effort, but a bad idea altogether. He shook his head and buried it further in his arms.

“Kenma. Come on. You’ll feel better once you eat something.” Kuroo was using the tone of voice that he used whenever he was hellbent on getting his way. Kenma moaned, but he wondered if maybe Kuroo was right. Maybe he was mistaking hunger pangs for nausea.

“Kitten,” Kuroo whispered, and Kenma knew he was going to give in. “Please.”

That was it. Letting out a small huff, Kenma picked his head up off of his arms and opened his mouth to accept the sushi. The worried crease in Kuroo’s forehead smoothed, and his typical unconcerned grin readily returned.

“There you go,” he murmured. “That’s it.”

Kenma spent what felt like ages chewing the single piece of sushi, and still it felt far too large when it slid down his throat. His stomach turned and reluctantly accepted it, but before Kenma could feel relieved, Kuroo was offering him more. Kenma managed to choke down three more pieces of sushi and then about half of a small bowl of plain rice by washing nearly every bite down with a gulp of water, but by then his stomach was plenty full and even more tumultuous than it had been when he’d started eating. Kuroo tried to offer him more rice, but Kenma turned away.

“Just a little-“

Kenma cut Kuroo off with a harsh gag. His legs were shaking like crazy, but he forced himself to stand and used the last of his willpower to run outside. For a moment, Kuroo was so shocked that he didn’t move. Then he sprinted after his friend. He made it outside just in time to see Kenma heave up a rush of bile and water into the grass. Kenma swayed unsteadily as another waved of nausea forced him to his knees, and Kuroo stumbled over time rub his friend’s back.

As Kenma burped up another large splash of sick, this time bringing up the rice and some of the sushi, Kuroo’s own stomach started to rebel. This was from the guilt of having made his friend so sick, but the sounds and smell and sight of Kenma’s vomit certainly didn’t help. The more he thought about it - and Kuroo couldn’t stop thinking about it once he’d started - the worse he felt.

Kenma moaned, and lurched forward, this time expelling more of the sushi, the smell positively rancid. Kuroo’s hand flew to his own mouth, and he doubled over, turning away from Kenma and throwing up very suddenly onto his own shoes. He retched and then clamped his mouth shut, only to have it immediately filled with puke. He tried to swallow it back, but he heard Kenma hiccup and then there was another splash onto the grass, and immediately more vomit was already making it up Kuroo’s throat. He coughed and heaved up one last mouthful of vomit. He rubbed the forced tears from his eyes and then searched for Kenma.

The smaller boy was on the ground, curled into a small ball.

“Kenma, I’m so - hic! - sorry,” Kuroo hiccuped, crumpling to the ground beside his friend. Kenma shuddered, but said nothing.

“Kenma? I didn’t mean to make you sick, I- urp,” Kuroo burped, and had to turn his head to the side to be sick again. “Uhgh,” he groaned. He closed his eyes tight and tried to remain still, and quiet. He wondered if he was annoying Kenma. That was the last thing he wanted at this point. His stomach cramped again at the thought.

Then the was something warm and trembling at his back. Arms wrapped around his body.

“It’s okay, Kuro” a soft voice said. “I should have said I was feeling bad.”

“Kenma-“

“Let’s go home?”

The warmth disappeared, and Kuroo opened his eyes. Kenma was standing, shakily, but offering a hand as if to help Kuroo up. He took it, and stood with a shaky smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed! and i'm sorry if you didn't, i know it isn't everyone's cup of tea.  
> i'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below if you have a bit of time to type them up!
> 
> if you like my writing, feel free to make requests on my tumblr accounts!  
> my fanfiction sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction](http://casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction.tumblr.com)  
> i also have an oc sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-ocs](http://casper-and-their-sick-ocs.tumblr.com)  
> my main is [@smolsickficwriter](http://smolsickficwriter.tumblr.com)  
> and i have a collab hq!! sickfic account [@vollyball-illnesses](http://vollyball-illnesses.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don't want to read about vomit, do not read!

Kuroo didn’t like labels. They made things feel deceptively permanent, falsely mutually exclusive, and generally excessively dramatic. Thus, he tried not to label his days as being “good” or “bad.” Today, however, was an exception.

Although he hadn’t woken up on the wrong side of the bed, per say, he had woken up on the floor, and with a terrible crick in his neck at that. Which sucked, but at that point he was still able to convince himself that it wasn’t a bad enough to be a Bad™ day yet.

Then he realized he’d woken up an hour and a half late and he decided that it at least had potential. 

He rushed to get ready, knowing he’d miss first and second period at the very least, but hoping to make it to third period on time since he had a Statistics exam. The getting ready went pretty smoothly, and Kuroo started to think that maybe the day would get better.

Needless to say, he was wrong.

There was no food in his house. None. He’d forgotten to get the groceries last night, and this was the result. He slammed the cabinet door shut, losing his cool a bit before reminding himself to stay calm. He managed to do so, right up until he saw the unread messages on his phone screen.

From: Kitten  
Time: 6:45 am  
where r u

From: Kitten  
Time: 6:53 am  
r u coming

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 6:55 am

From: Kitten  
Time: 7:02 am  
we r gonna b late

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 7:02 am

From: Kitten  
Time: 7:03 am  
im gonna skip if u do

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 7:03 am

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 7:04 am

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 7:04 am

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 7:04 am

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 7:05 am

From: Kitten  
Time: 7:05 am  
mom’s making me go

“Shit!” He couldn’t help it. This time he shouted out loud. One good thing was that his parents were out of town, so nobody heard him, but it didn’t really make him feel any better either. By the time he texted Kenma back his hands were shaking and his head was pulsing vaguely behind his eyes.

To: Kitten  
Time: 9:24 am  
Kenma I am so sorry I totally overslept. Hang in there. I’m on my way.

And then he was, as he had told Kenma, on his way, begrudgingly taking with him a headache instead of breakfast, but on his way nonetheless. He was forced to make a large detour due to a new construction site’s cropping up. He scowled. Not only was it inconvenient, but they’d already cut down his favorite tree. It was where he’d met Kenma. And now suddenly it was gone forever.

By the time he got to school, it was already 20 minutes into third period. Kenma still hadn’t responded to his text, Kuroo couldn’t stop thinking about how his favorite tree was gone, his head still hurt from having been unable to eat, and his neck still hurt from having fallen off his bed. Basically, he felt like crying. Instead, he shot Kenma another text and went to take his test.

To: Kitten  
Time: 10:30 am  
I’m sorry Kenma, I really am. I’ll see you at lunch, okay?

During the test could barely focus. He was so hungry, and the combination of the crick in his neck and his mild headache was really starting to get to him, making it hard to remember material even though he’d stayed up late memorizing it. Still, he was nearly finished when the teacher stopped them. Five minutes early. Kuroo couldn’t believe it. When the teacher came by he started to protest.

“Excuse me, but I believe we should have another five minutes? I’m almost done, and-“

“Well, Mr. Kuroo, maybe you should have thought of that before you came to the test 20 minutes late.”

“But-“ The teacher took his papers. Kuroo sighed and relented. It wasn’t like he really had a valid excuse anyway, and he was truly too exhausted to argue any further.

He slunk to the cafeteria, scrolling through his non-existent new text messages in a daze. He wondered how angry Kenma was. 

Angry enough, he soon discovered, to avoid sitting at their usual table.

“Damnit,” he mumbled, wanting to kick himself. He shook his head. Kenma could be anywhere. At the moment, however, Kuroo felt like if he didn’t eat, he would pass out, so he got in the lunch line. It wasn’t until he was at the register that he realized: his wallet was gone.

As his hand searched his pocket, which had nothing in it but a hole, his face paled. The lunch lady was glaring at him, tapping her fingers impatiently.

“I, uh,” he stuttered, still searching his pocket in disbelief even though he knew he wouldn’t find anything there. His throat got tight in that way it did when he wanted to cry but refused to do so, and he opened his mouth to explain what had happened.

Just then, a small figure popped up beside him and stuck a wad of cash into his hand. Kuroo looked down in surprise, then let out a breath of relief. It was Kenma. He was pouting and aggressively avoiding eye contact, but he was there. Kuroo smiled, paid for his food, and then followed Kenma as he stalked away. They ended up underneath a tree. Kenma sat down with his back to it and started eating, just a bit. Kuroo tried to sit next to him, but Kenma immediately scuttled to the opposite side of the tree so that their backs were to each other.

“Kenma…” Kuroo spooned some of his lunch into his mouth. Despite how hungry he was, he couldn’t appreciate the food when he was so worried about his best friend. Hoping it would help him think more clearly, he made himself eat anyway.

“The teacher called me out for being late,” Kenma mumbled, not looking up from his food.

Kuroo’s throat tightened again. He knew how much Kenma hated being the center of attention, and this time it was Kuroo’s fault that he’d been made the focal point for his entire class.

“I’m sorry, Kenma. Really, I am,” Kuroo apologized, not knowing what else he could say. He didn’t think telling Kenma that he’d been called out for being late, too, would help matters, and yet it felt like his brain was short-circuiting, only capable of looping through the day’s regrets and sending him sharp bursts of physical and psychological pain.

They ate in silence for the next fifteen minutes. Then Kenma spoke up again.

“They cut down the tree.”

Kuroo looked up, hearing that Kenma’s voice was much closer than it had been before. Sure enough, the smaller boy was now next to him. He could see the slight crease in Kenma’s brow that meant he was upset. Kuroo hated that Kenma was upset, but he was glad that the tree meant something to him, too.

“I know, Ki- uh, Kenma,” he corrected. Kenma looked up from his game and gave Kuroo a long, bland stare. Then he shrugged and turned back to his game. They didn’t say much else before the bell rang and they had to go to class.

The second half of Kuroo’s day was nearly as bad as the first. He was assigned group projects in all three of his afternoon classes. He hated group projects with a passion, because it always meant working with idiots. It didn’t help that his headache had yet to go away, even though he’d been sure to eat more than enough at lunch. He scowled, and tried to be nice to his group mates in spite of their infuriating stupidity.

He had at least been looking forward to practice, but when he got to the gym it was empty. Then he remembered that the coach was out of town dealing with a family emergency and had cancelled practice. Normally the team would meet anyway, but quite a few of the other team members had other events to attend today anyway and were taking advantage of the time off. Kuroo pulled his phone out to text Kenma to ask where to meet him so they could walk home together, but could hardly believe the message on his screen.

From: Kitten  
Time: 2:52 pm  
im in a hurry, so ill go home ahead

Kuroo rubbed his temple. Kenma was never in a hurry, so he must still be angry. He’d thought they were on okay terms after lunch, but maybe he was wrong. The thought only made his head hurt worse.

To: Kitten  
Time: 2:58 pm  
Are you still mad at me? Kenma, I’m really sorry.

To: Kitten  
Time: 2:59 pm  
Be safe on your way home.

To: Kitten  
Time: 3:00 pm  
Text me when you get there?

Kuroo sighed. He couldn’t force Kenma to respond, and he knew his friend wouldn’t answer his phone if he tried calling, so he stowed his cell in his pocket - the one without a hole in it - and started walking back, slowly, and with his eyes trained on the ground.

It was, of course, only fitting, then, that he would be surprised by a sudden downpour about five minutes into the 25 minute walk. He looked up at the sky for a moment. Normally he would curse it out, but at this point he didn’t even have enough energy to do so. He just blinked a few times and trudged on.

By the time he got home his new shoes were ruined, he was soaked to the bone, and his head was positively pounding. It was so bad that he was having trouble seeing. Nausea turned his stomach as he stumbled around his house closing all of the blinds and trailing water everywhere. Finally, he made it to his room. It was only when he was in his bed, curled up (still wet) around an empty trashcan and shaking like a leaf, that he allowed himself to admit that it had been a Bad™ day. His phone pinged, but Kuroo was on the verge of falling asleep, so he half-subconsciously muted it and drifted off.

“…’uro. Kuro, wake up. Kuro, please.” Kuroo awoke to a soft voice. He only just had time to recognize it as Kenma’s before his stomach flipped viciously. He panicked for a moment, but fortunately the trashcan was still in his arms. He sat up, ducked his head into it and was almost immediately being sick. The act only made his head hurt worse.

Kenma made a strangled, shocked noise, but caught his friend as he dipped sideways, dizzy and half blind from pain.

“-uck,” he mumbled, and then heaved and threw up again. He blearily looked at the mess at the bottom of the trashcan and instantly vomited two more times at the sight of it. When he was finally able to pull away, Kenma was looking at him with wide eyes.

“Kenma, I’m-“ Kuroo rasped, intending to apologize, but Kenma cut him off, a shaking hand wiping residual sick off of his face with a Kleenex.

“Are you sick?” Kenma asked bluntly. Kuroo shook his head minutely and winced.

“Migraine,” he muttered.

Kenma blinked at him and nodded.

“Kenma, why…?”

Kenma frowned. “You didn’t get my text?”

Kuroo’s eyes darted to the desk stand where his phone lay, and Kenma scooped it up without any hesitation. If he’d been 100%, Kuroo wouldn’t have made the mistake of looking at it in the first place. If he’d been even 70%, he would have reacted much more quickly, quickly enough at least to get it out of Kenma’s hands before he read anything Kuroo didn’t want him to see. As it was, he felt like he was dying a torturous death, so he ended up protesting only after Kenma was staring at the screen. In fact, he reacted just as Kenma’s eyes widened marginally, expression otherwise unreadable.

Kenma showed him the screen. Sure enough, there it was. That “From: Kitten.” Kuroo’s face flared red in embarrassment.

“Kenma, I can expl-“

“I got your wallet.” Kenma stated suddenly.

“What?” Kuroo started to frown in confusion but a stab of pain to his head forced him to relax into a neutral expression again. Kenma showed him the screen again, and Kuroo scrolled through his notifications in amazement.

From: Kitten  
Time: 3:29 pm  
coming over

From: Kitten  
Time: 3:30 pm  
found your wallet

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 3:30 pm

Call from: Kitten  
Time: 3:31 pm

From: Kitten  
Time: 3:32 pm  
is your phone broken

From: Kitten  
Time: 3:42 pm  
here

From: Kitten  
Time: 3:43 pm  
let me in

From: Kitten  
Time: 3:44 pm  
u shouldnt leave the door unlocked

“Kenma, did you really…? In the rain? You found…?” Kuroo could hardly speak his throat was so tight with tears on the verge of spilling. Kenma handed him his wallet. It was soaked through, but it was undeniably his. His credit card was there, his student ID was there, his insurance card…

He only barely prevented himself from sobbing, and only did so because he feared it would make his head hurt worse. Then Kenma spoke up again, quieter this time.

“And… You can call me Kitten if you want to.”

That was it. Even as it intensified his pain, Kuroo dissolved into tears.

“Kuro!” Kenma tensed up and made to examine his friend for any further signs of pain or injury, but Kuroo held up a hand.

“’s okay, Ken- Kitten,” he mumbled, and then laughed. “’s just been a really long day, and you made it so - hic! - so much better,” he explained.

“Kuro…” Kenma whispered, reaching out a hand.

Then the nausea got the better of him and Kuroo lurched for the trashcan, retching painfully until he burped up the rest of his stomach contents. Kenma made a face, but still wiped Kuroo clean before taking the trashcan away. He moved to stand up, presumably to clean it out, but Kuroo grabbed his wrist.

“Stay?”

Kenma hesitated. “I have to-“

“I’ll clean it later. Actually, I’ll just throw it out. Please, Kitten?”

A funny expression crossed over Kenma’s face then. Something gentle, something vulnerable, maybe even emotional. Kuroo couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was before it was gone, but it didn’t matter, because Kenma nodded, and then crawled into the bed.

It didn’t take long for Kuroo to fall asleep after that. As he did so, he thought about what an incredible day it had been. He smiled.

This was why he hated labels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed! and i'm sorry if you didn't, i know it isn't everyone's cup of tea.  
> i'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below if you have a bit of time to type them up!
> 
> if you like my writing, feel free to make requests on my tumblr accounts!  
> my fanfiction sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction](http://casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction.tumblr.com)  
> i also have an oc sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-ocs](http://casper-and-their-sick-ocs.tumblr.com)  
> my main is [@smolsickficwriter](http://smolsickficwriter.tumblr.com)  
> and i have a collab hq!! sickfic account [@vollyball-illnesses](http://vollyball-illnesses.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don't want to read about vomit, do not read!

“Kenma?” Kuroo steps tentatively into the dark bedroom, clenching his phone tightly. “You in here?”

It’s quiet, and for a moment it seems like he won’t be receiving a response. He takes another step and resists the urge to turn the lights on, in case Kenma is sleeping. He doesn’t know what to expect, but judging by their short conversation on the phone earlier (very short, and one sided; as soon as Kuroo answered Kenma had said “Come over” and hung up immediately), something was wrong.

“Ken-“ he starts to say, but stops when something slams into him. Kuroo staggers back a couple steps, but manages to catch himself in the doorway. The light from the hallway illuminates the dark roots of Kenma’s hair, as well as the way Kenma is burying his face in Kuroo’s stomach.

“Oh?” Kuroo murmurs, voice low and contemplative as he returns the hug. It’s been a while since he’s seen Kenma so touchy-feely, and as much as he wants to enjoy it, something in him is overbearingly worried. His eyes are quick to scan for signs of distress as he speaks. “Hey, Kitten. What’s wrong?”

“Stomach, Kenma mumbles, squeezing Kuroo even tighter and letting out a small gasp. “Hurts, Kuro.”

Kuroo’s mouth forms a thin line. His own stomach aches at the thought of Kenma in pain. 

“Do you feel sick?”

Kenma nods, his head moving up and down on Kuroo’s stomach. Kuroo puts a hand on Kenma’s forehead and sighs.

“You’ve got a fever. Probably the stomach flu,” he mutters, as much to himself as anything else. Kenma whimpers and squeezes Kuroo tighter. When Kuroo steps into the house, Kenma stumbles along with him. It’s cute, but also somewhat alarming; with Kenma’s legs as shaky as they are, Kuroo’s scared he’ll get hurt. He pries Kenma’s arms away. Then, just as Kenma’s expression is crumbling, Kuroo scoops him up into his arms like a child. Kenma’s arms immediately encircle his neck.

Kuroo had planned to set Kenma on the bed, but he can’t bring himself to pry Kenma’s arms away a second time, and he spots a conveniently located and empty bucket and a tall glass of water on Kenma’s nightstand. He figures that’s all they really need on hand at the moment, so he sits down on the bed himself, Kenma still in his arms. It takes them a minute to get comfortable, but when they settle, Kenma is sitting contentedly on Kuroo’s lap, with Kuroo stroking his hair slowly.

“How are you doing, Kitten?”

A cramp wracks Kenma’s body and he curls inward, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He whines.

“That good, huh?”

Kenma elbows Kuroo in the stomach gently, but it has more of an impact than it should since Kuroo’s own stomach is still unsettled. He hates this. Hates seeing Kenma in pain.

“You have to let it out, Kenma,” he says quietly, grabbing the bin from the nightstand and setting it one Kenma’s lap. “You’ll feel better when you do.”

“I don’t want to,” Kenma moans, turning towards Kuroo, away from the bucket, and clinging to his shirt.

“You have to, Kitten.”

Kenma hiccups suddenly, and Kuroo’s own nausea spikes dangerously as Kenma retches into Kuroo’s shirt, but nothing comes up.

“That’s it,” Kuroo murmurs, gently shifting Kenma so that he’s leaning over the bucket. “Try and relax and just let it happen.”

Kenma makes a distressed noise and dry heaves again. Then Kuroo starts rubbing Kenma’s stomach and it finally tips him over the edge.

With a huge shudder, Kenma lurches forward and vomits into the bucket. The smell is absolutely rank, and Kuroo has to put a hand to his own mouth as Kenma throws up again, and again. He’s still coughing and gasping for air when Kuroo takes the bucket and releases a loud, wet belch into it himself. His shoulders lurch and the burp turns into a heave that brings up a powerful rush of partially digested food that splashes into the bucket on top of the Kenma’s puke. The sight, and the memory of Kenma’s being sick, makes Kuroo feel worse, and he heaves again, bringing up even more vomit. The bucket isn’t big enough, and some of the barf splashes out onto the comforter of the bed. Kuroo feels a small hand on his back, and he’s knows they’ve switched roles.

Giving up on the bucket altogether and setting it back on the nightstand to be dealt with later, Kuroo leans over the side of the bed and burps up another round of projectile vomit. It splatters onto the hardwood floor, and before Kuroo can even get a breath, he’s adding to the mess. By the time he’s done his stomach is rung out and he’s as shaky as Kenma.

“Kuro, you’re sick, too?” Kenma asks in a small voice. Kuroo wipes a hand across his mouth and suppresses a gag as he shakes his head.

“Just… don’t do well seeing you sick, I guess.”

“Oh. Sorry, Kuro, I shouldn’t have called.”

Kuroo takes a good look at his friend. His face is washed out, there are tears rolling down his cheeks, his trembling and sweaty, and his expression is one of immense regret. Kuroo can’t fix everything, but he’ll happily devote his whole soul to doing what he can, and he needs Kenma to know that.

“No, Kitten,” he says, wiping the Kenma’s tears away. “Don’t you ever apologize for calling me. I’m here, happily, whenever you need me. Truly. I’m sorry I threw up. But I don’t mind. I’m okay.”

“But Kuro-“

“Shhh, don’t you worry, Kit,” Kuroo places a hand on Kenma’s cheek and moves to stand up. “I’m going to clean this mess up, okay? I’m not leaving. I promise. Even if you tell me to.”

Kenma stares for a moment. Then:

“Thanks, Kuro.”

Kuroo smiles. “Anytime, Kitten, anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed! and i'm sorry if you didn't, i know it isn't everyone's cup of tea.  
> i'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below if you have a bit of time to type them up!
> 
> if you like my writing, feel free to make requests on my tumblr accounts!  
> my fanfiction sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction](http://casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction.tumblr.com)  
> i also have an oc sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-ocs](http://casper-and-their-sick-ocs.tumblr.com)  
> my main is [@smolsickficwriter](http://smolsickficwriter.tumblr.com)  
> and i have a collab hq!! sickfic account [@vollyball-illnesses](http://vollyball-illnesses.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don't want to read about vomit, do not read!

“I’m fine.”

“Sit down.”

“I’m-“

“Kuroo, sit down, now.”

Kuroo sat on the bench, long arms hanging between his legs dejectedly. In the face of Yaku’s anger, healthy or not, Kuroo was nothing.

“You’re sick. Go home.”

Kuroo scowled. He had to at least try to explain himself. He definitely did not want to go home.

“Yaku, honestly, I’m okay,” he said calmly. Yaku was quiet, so he kept going. “I feel normal. I don’t know why you even think I’m not.”

Yaku breathed out a slow sigh and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was an evil glint there. He called Yamamoto over.

“Yamamoto. Does Kuroo look fine to you?”

Yamamoto stared a Kuroo. He tilted his head to the side. Kuroo grinned.

“I’m fine, ri-“

“No, there’s something wrong,” Yamamoto interrupted. “Sorry, Captain. You’re face is all red and you’re sweating even though we haven’t done any laps today, and your face is really pale. You look sick.”

Kuroo was stunned. That didn’t mean he wanted to leave practice early.

“Okay, so maybe I have a bit of a cold, but-“

Suddenly there was a large hand on his forehead. Kuroo looked up slowly, to find Kai examining him closely. Kuroo moved to brush Kai’s hand away, but Kai caught Kuroo by the wrist instead.

“You have a fever,” he said calmly. “You should get some rest.”

“The Captain’s sick!” Inuouka shouted. “Coach! Kuroo-“

“Alright, everyone calm down!” Coach Nekomata yelled, silencing all of them. “We’re almost done with practice, so-“ The coach looked at Kuroo. “Kuroo, I’m sorry, but you really do look awful. I think you should go home. However,” he continued, as the team began to chatter excitedly. “It doesn’t seem like we will be able to focus at this point if I make you leave, does it?”

Kuroo straightened his back with renewed hope. Then Nekomata shoot his head.

“I guess we’ll just end practice early, today.” The team exploded with shouts of surprise and commentary, while Kuroo sat, stunned, shoulders slumping.

“But Coach-“

Nekomata raised a hand and everyone fell quiet again. “However,” He said. “You all have homework. You make sure your captain gets home safely and rests. It’ll be a good bonding experience for you all,” he concluded, winking. Kuroo groaned as his teammates cheered.

They all walked him back to his house as instructed. It wasn’t a long walk, thankfully, but it was long enough for Kuroo to go from mildly achy to intensely shivering while sweating buckets to having a pretty bad headache.

Yaku stopped into a department store on the way to get some ibuprofen and other medicine, and when he came back out Kuroo had a hand to his head. Yaku spotted Kenma at Kuroo’s side, staring at his friend, but when Kenma noticed Yaku, he looked back to his game. Yaku smiled, and when they arrived at the house, he made his way over to Kuroo.

“Hey, you okay?”

“My head,” he mumbled, before he could stop himself. “I mean-“

“It’s okay to admit that you’re sick, you know?” Yaku poked Kuroo in the side teasingly, and Kuroo sighed.

“Yeah, alright. I’ve got a headache, and it isn’t so bad, but it’s just so loud.”

“Hm,” Yaku hummed, expecting as much, and suppressing a grin as Kenma walked inside as if the place were his own. “Well, how about I get these goons out of your way, now.”

Kuroo eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Sure,” Yaku nodded. “We got you here, now you just need to rest.”

Kuroo breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Yaku nodded. “Everybody be quiet!” He yelled, then shot Kuroo an apologetic look. Kuroo shrugged. As long as he would be left in peace and quiet soon, he didn’t mind. As Yaku ushered the team away, Kuroo allowed himself to let his smile fall. He sank to the ground, back against the wall, and held his head in his hands as he squatted there, trying not to move. Then he heard something. Or, rather, he heard the absence of something that had previously been making noise. There had been a steady click-clacking, and now it had stopped.

“Kuro…”

Kuroo looked up to see Kenma standing there in front of him. Kenma’s video game. That’s what had been making noise.

“Kenma!?” Kuroo couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d stayed. “Why’re you…? What?”

“Kuro, you should be in bed.”

“But-“

“The coach said you needed rest.”

Ah. That made sense. Kenma did tend to do what the coach ordered, after all.

“Kenma. I can take care of myself. You can go home,” Kuroo smiled and gestured to the door, but Kenma shook his head.

“Bed.”

“But-“

“Kuro. Bed. Now.”

Kuroo gulped. He’d forgotten that Kenma, when he snapped, was even scarier than Yaku, since Kenma only got angry once or twice a year. Kuroo had never been the target of Kenma’s fury, but he could now say with confidence that it was bone-chilling. To bed it was.

“Okay,” Kuroo said when he was in bed and now feeling somewhat nauseas. “I’m in bed. You can go.”

But Kenma shook his head and crawled into bed with Kuroo.

“What? Kenma! You can’t just! Get in someone’s bed with them! And I’m sick!”

“It’s fine,” Kenma stated. “It’s just you, Kuro. I don’t mind.”

“Kenma, really-“ Kuroo swallowed back a splash of something hot and acidic. “You should go.”

Kenma pulled out his game and started playing, but said nothing. Kuroo sighed.

“Kuro.” Kuroo sighed again.

“Kenma.”

“Are you going to throw up?”

“I-“ Kuroo hesitated, and that was enough for Kenma. He rolled out of the bed, grabbed the trashcan near the door of Kuroo’s room, and rolled right back into the bed, handing the plastic container to Kuroo, who glanced at Kenma nervously.

“Are you going to…?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Are you sure? I really think I’m going to - ulp - be sick soon.”

Kenma nodded, still looking at his game. His hands were shaking, but his determination was steady.

Still, when Kuroo finally did hunch over the trashcan with a strangled noise, Kenma had to resist the instinct to run. He managed to rub circles on Kuroo’s back, but it was hard to watch someone who always seemed so strong in such a weak state. When he raised his head, tears were leaking from Kuroo’s eyes, and Kenma melted.

“Kuro…”

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo sniffled. “I just feel s-“ Kuroo was cut off by a splash in the back of his mouth. He leaned over again and vomited, this time a much larger quantity. Kenma stayed close, squeezing Kuroo’s shoulder and brushing his hair away. Kuroo let out half a sob and then was puking again. Kenma grabbed a tissue and wiped Kuroo’s mouth and chin, and then took another and held it to Kuroo’s nose, which had vomit dripping from it.

“You have to get it out of your nose, Kuro,” Kenma spoke as if to a child. As unsettling as it was, there was something endearing about such a vulnerable side of Kuroo. Kuroo whined a bit and then tried to blow his nose. However, that only set off his stomach again, and soon he was shoving Kenma out of the way as he burped up more sick. He dry retched until he was able to choke out one last mouthful of barf, and then dissolved into tears.

“Kuro, stop crying. You’ll make yourself sick again,” Kenma whispered, Taking the trashcan from the older boy and taking Kuroo’s hand in his own. He started to massage it, working the muscles that wanted it to stay clenched, and then dropped it in order to move to Kuroo’s other hand.

Suddenly arms wrapped around Kenma. He tensed, surprised, but soon relaxed in Kuroo’s grip. He lay his head on Kuroo’s chest and listened to his friend’s heartbeat slow to it’s normal pace.

“Kuro?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, his voice shaky and raw but with only the faintest hint of leftover tears. “Thanks to you, Kenma. Really. Thank you for staying with me.”

Kenma, embarrased, just gave Kuroo’s hand a squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed! and i'm sorry if you didn't, i know it isn't everyone's cup of tea.  
> i'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below if you have a bit of time to type them up!
> 
> if you like my writing, feel free to make requests on my tumblr accounts!  
> my fanfiction sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction](http://casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction.tumblr.com)  
> i also have an oc sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-ocs](http://casper-and-their-sick-ocs.tumblr.com)  
> my main is [@smolsickficwriter](http://smolsickficwriter.tumblr.com)  
> and i have a collab hq!! sickfic account [@vollyball-illnesses](http://vollyball-illnesses.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

One minute Kuroo was joking around with Bokuto and then next he could hardly hear a thing his friend was saying over his concern. Which is really unusual, considering that, according to the rest of the world, Kuroo is someone who “never worries.”

He tried. He tried to keep his persona up. But as dense as Bokuto is about most things, he can be very perceptive when it comes to emotions (if he weren’t, he and Akaashi wouldn’t be half as close as they were). So almost as soon as Kuroo noticed, so did Bokuto.

“Bro,” Bokuto stopped running around suddenly and tossed Kuroo the meat he’d been hoarding. Kuroo was surprised but still quick enough to catch the perfectly tossed food in his mouth. Bokuto smirked and clasped a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder before the black haired boy had a chance to chew and swallow.

“Bro,” Bokuto repeated, gesturing to the game console on the table that Kuroo kept involuntarily starting at. “Is that Kenma’s?”

Kuroo’s eyes darted back between the console and Bokuto. He hummed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Weird, isn’t it?”

As if the fact that Bokuto had noticed he was concerned gave him permission to do so, Kuroo began more actively searching for his smaller friend. He still stuck with Bokuto, but his head was swiveling around like crazy. Bokuto shook his head.

“Just go look for him, bro. I don’t mind.”

“Wha- no, bro, it’s okay. I’m sure Kenma’s okay,” Kuroo protested, wishing he could convince himself that his worry was unfounded. “I’m sure he just- ah, shit,” Kuroo cut himself off when he finally found what he was looking for. Bokuto followed his line of sight to where Kenma was curled in a ball under an otherwise abandoned table.

“Oh,” Bokuto said softly. “Bro. He does not look okay.”

Kuroo didn’t even had a chance to hear Bokuto finish his sentence before he was making his way to Kenma. When he reached him, he saw that not only was Kenma rocking back and forth like he did when he was exceedingly anxious, he was trembling. Not only was he frowning; there were tears in his eyes when, after having been squeezed shut, the flashed open. Not only was he pale; he was pasty and sweaty, too.

“Kenma, what- what’s wrong? You left your game,” Kuroo mumbled, squatting down.

“Kuro, I don’t-“ Kenma made a strangled noise and took a deep breath before continuing in a softer, more broken voice. “I don’t feel good.”

“You- oh,” Kuroo stilled. “You think you’re going to throw up?”

Kenma made a despairing noise and nodded his head just the slightest bit.

Kuroo resisted the urge to spit out a curse for Kenma’s sake and instead stood, grabbing the smaller boy’s hand. Kenma was shaking so bad that it was scary. Kuroo tugged on his hand, but Kenma didn’t budge.

“Kenma, let’s go.“

“No, Kuro, I- ulp! - there’s too many- hurk!” Kenma hunched forward with a retch, swaying side to side woozily. He looked up at Kuroo just long enough for the older boy to process the desperation in his eyes before he doubled over again. A small burp escaped his mouth and was followed almost immediately by a shocking amount of hot, chunky, brown vomit. Kenma shuddered as another sob-turned heave wracked his body and he was sick all over himself a second time.

“Oh, shit,” Kuroo mumbled, crouching down and rubbing Kenma’s back while attempting to shield him from the view of the other volleyball players. The sound of Bokuto’s voice, loud - even louder than normal - and purposefully attention grabbing filtered through Kuroo’s ears. Kenma burped up another powerful wave of sick and Kuroo winced, but when he looked around, everyone’s eyes were focused on Bokuto. He breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note to thank Bokuto later.

Later, when Kenma wasn’t sobbing and on the verge of a panic attack like he was now.

His thin arms were feebly attempting to push Kuroo away and wipe all the tears from his face at the same time. Kuroo grabbed them both, lightening quick, and started massaging Kenma’s shoulders.

“Kenma, stop, hey,” he whispered as the smaller boy cried. “Breathe. You need to breathe. Listen. Everything’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Ku- Kuro,” Kenma panted between sobs and retches. “I can’t- I’m sorry- this is so-“ Kenma shuddered and heaved up another mouthful of puke, then dissolved in to incomprehensible mumbling interspersed with occasional dry heaves.

Kuroo couldn’t just sit and watch his best friend’s struggle any longer. In a split second decision that he feared might backfire, Kuroo scooped Kenma into his arms and carried him inside before sinking down and releasing Kenma.

“Sorry, Kenma,” he apologized. “I know you don’t like it when people touch-“

Kuroo stopped suddenly, and slowly looked down at his own chest. Kenma’s fist was there, a handful of Kuroo’s shirt clenched within it.

“But, Ken-“

“Kuro, please…” Kenma trailed off, sniffling and burrowing his head in Kuroo’s chest.

It was strange. Normally, Kenma hated being touched. Today was the first time, as far as Kuroo knew, that he’d ever reached out to someone else, at least physically.

Kuroo took it in stride. He wrapped his arms around his small friend tentatively, relaxing and stroking his hair only when Kenma squeezed him tighter. It wasn’t long before Kenma followed suit and relaxed, too.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed! and i'm sorry if you didn't, i know it isn't everyone's cup of tea.  
> i'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below if you have a bit of time to type them up!
> 
> if you like my writing, feel free to make requests on my tumblr accounts!  
> my fanfiction sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction](http://casper-and-their-sick-fanfiction.tumblr.com)  
> i also have an oc sickfic tumblr account [@casper-and-their-sick-ocs](http://casper-and-their-sick-ocs.tumblr.com)  
> my main is [@smolsickficwriter](http://smolsickficwriter.tumblr.com)  
> and i have a collab hq!! sickfic account [@vollyball-illnesses](http://vollyball-illnesses.tumblr.com)


End file.
